“I want that for you,” I say, “so much.” And he shuts his eyes and nods.

We sit there for a while, until his phone goes off. He pulls it out with a sigh. “Gray’s outside. She got the rest of my stuff from my dad’s. I didn’t want to go back there, you know?” He stands up and walks over, brushing his thumb gently down my injured arm. This time when he kisses me goodbye, I don’t try to stop him. I don’t beg him to stay or ask to go with him.

“Bye, Peak. Thanks . . . for everything.”

And when the door clicks shut, the tears come in earnest because I know that he changed me and I changed him. We’ll never be the same, but maybe that’s okay.

I bet the horses will be beautiful.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Ridley

“YOU READY?” GRAY asks, leaning in the doorway of our new apartment. Dad threatened to cut her off, but Gray called his bluff and things are mostly fine. I think Gray’s even getting glorified child support now too, but I don’t ask.

It took a little while for a bed to open up at Greenwild Acres, the ridiculously bougie therapeutic equine facility my sister found that specializes in teens with clinical depression and anxiety disorders. They don’t just load you up on medication there, but that is part of it, and they’ve already prescribed some in coordination with my new doctor. I was always really weird about having to take stuff, but it actually does seem to help.

Greenwild Acres is located on a sprawling horse farm just outside of Boston, which is where Gray and I live now, and I’ve been doing outpatient services there while I waited for a bed. Everybody is pretty cool so far. I’m nervous about going inpatient for the next six-plus weeks, but I feel hopeful somehow too.

Plus, they have a skate park there, and I can bring my board, which is awesome—except they’ll keep it locked up at first because skate privileges need to be earned. I know I’m lucky to be able to go to a place like that; most people can’t. I told Gray I didn’t think I deserved all this special treatment, and she said it’s not about deserving it and to shut up and pack. So I did. But I still feel a little weird about it.

I miss Peak, like, so much, but my therapists have got me pretty well convinced that if we’re meant to be, we’ll be, and that the best thing I can do is get myself in order before I go charging back. I really hope someday we’re meant to be, but if not, I’m trying to just be grateful for the time we had.